Tables Turned
by KatGurlJane7
Summary: Something is affecting the crew's emotions. The search for answers may cost them their lives. CHAPTER SIX UP
1. Chapter One

RATING: PG-13

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is set somewhere in the late fifth season. Sorry if it strays from canon a little. My very first fanfic, PLEASE review....

DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns all things Trek, including Voyager, etc.

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Captain Kathryn Janeway stretched out on the couch with a long, contented sigh. A glance around her quarters confirmed the impossible—she was alone.

But even this well-earned and far too long-awaited downtime could not be hers completely. She heaved another sigh, this time edged with resignation, and started scrolling through the large PADD in her hand. After only two minutes of scanning a lengthy tactical update, she let her eyes wander to the viewport beside her.

On the other side of the window, billions of stars spread far into the boundless expanse of the Delta Quadrant. Boundless. Lately it was seeming more and more like they never would reach an end of this unknown region. Daily it threw new challenges in their faces, as if daring them to give up. But they wouldn't, not ever, she promised herself, probably for the millionth time since they had been flung into this quadrant almost five years ago.

Five years…she closed her eyes, and in a few seconds, everything Voyager had been through flashed through her mind. If she had to sum it all up in one word, she would have to say "daunting." Hostile aliens, spatial anomalies, system failures, time travel—they had seen it all, and always managed to come out on top. Honestly, she didn't know how they had survived this long. Every day they faced a new obstacle that tested their abilities and fortitude. She could only pray that maybe, miraculously, this night could pass without some new catastrophe for her to worry over.

"Always expect the unexpected," Janeway murmured, opening her eyes to the stars that eternally twinkled outside her viewport. That was one rule everyone on Voyager knew from day one. No matter what they expected, something else was bound to happen, and unless they someday had grown adept for every possible circumstance, that something else always presented a problem that stretched their capabilities.

Janeway forced her attention back to the matters at hand. She quickly finished the tactical update, and laid it aside, picking up the ship status report. When her gaze fell on the second paragraph, she immediately sat up and focused her full attention on the PADD.

_In the last seven months, _Voyager _has not encountered any species willing to trade for necessary supplies, nor have we had the opportunity to dock and resupply. Our food reserves are expended by 65.7 percent. While the current status of our provisions is not critical, Voyager_ _will have to accumulate fresh supplies within the next three months, or the emergency reserves will have to be accessed. At the current rate, the depletion will reach the crisis point in approximately 4.2 months._

Janeway sat back and regarded the PADD distastefully, as if the device itself was causing her the anxiety she felt. True, it had been months since they had come across any species that answered their hails with anything but weapons fire. But she hadn't realized their supplies were going to run out so soon.

Just another worry to add the list. She took a deep breath and squeezed her tense neck and shoulder muscles. What she wouldn't give for a long, soothing massage right now. But massages were just one of the luxuries she couldn't afford as the captain. In fact, there were so many things she had to sacrifice… _Stop it Kathryn_, she reprimanded herself. _Don't waste your time on self-pity. _But she desperately needed to complain to somebody right here and now, just to get everything off her chest. Then maybe she could breathe again. She was suffocating here, underneath all this responsibility.

_When did I start getting so depressed? _Kathryn tossed aside the PADD that had caused this newest bout of self-evaluation and hugged her knees to her chest, lifting her eyes once again to the viewport. Outside, those stars went on twinkling so cheerfully—_too cheerfully_, she thought bitterly. As if they were mocking her. Anything and anybody could be lurking beyond that star, or that one…and with their luck, they would run into every one of those potential dangers. They had survived everything so far, but when would their good fortune run out?

She pressed her fingers to her temples, feeling another headache coming on. This was unusual – usually she got these headaches when there was something to stress about. Now there was nothing. But that was just it: there was _nothing_. And sometimes that could be worse than their normal hectic routine. It certainly gave her time to think, and brood…and she usually wound up depressed and isolated, like now.

_No, _she told herself firmly. She would _not _turn this into another guilt trip. Determinedly, she picked up a new PADD and concentrated on B'Elanna's engine report.

--------------------------

Chief Medical Officer's Log 

_Stardate undefined_

_So far today has been a typically uneventful day in Sickbay. Ever since our last alien encounter, Voyager has fallen into a monotonous routine. The hours come and go, and I am left wondering if the Delta Quadrant had exhausted its seemingly infinite store of 'surprises' on our account._

_I spent the morning analyzing gas samples taken from the nebula we passed yesterday. I treated two headaches and one case of acute functional dyspepsia brought on by Mr. Neelix's latest attempt at palatable cuisine. Once again I am grateful that as a hologram I have no dietetic needs. _

_The captain has suggested that I take some time off since my services haven't exactly been in demand lately. I suppose Mr. Paris can handle the occasional 'bellyaching' I have been attending to while I enjoy some well-deserved time on the holodeck._

Birds twittered in perfect harmony and soft clouds rolled across the blue sky overhead as Voyager's EMH crouched down in the middle of the green. He eyed the distance between the ball and the hole with careful concentration, then stood and slowly circled the area. Three feet…four feet. Three feet five inches. The Doctor sighed. Maybe he should ask B'Elanna to alter his visual subroutines. It certainly would help his game. The thought of just asking the computer how far the ball was from the hole crossed his mind, but he shook his head. If he was on Earth right now, he wouldn't have such luxuries. Finally settling on a middling distance of three feet six inches, he stepped back to the ball and placed the head of his club behind the ball. This was a critical putt if he was going to make par…he couldn't afford to miss it. So, taking a deep breath, he pulled the club back an appropriate distance, and—

"Doctor."

The ball spun off the head of the club, completely missing the hole and landing a good two feet on the other side. The Doctor let out a frustrated breath as he watched it roll to a stop, sealing his loss. Maybe he would never break his own record.

"Doctor." Again the monotone voice called his name, and he lifted his eyes to who he knew was there. As expected, Seven of Nine stood a few feet off, looking at him with an annoying lack of comprehension or repentance for what she had just done.

"Seven," he acknowledged without even trying to conceal his frustration.

"Have I interrupted anything?"

The Doctor looked at the ball's unfortunate position and back at Seven's impassive expression. "No, nothing… Just the proverbial putt of a lifetime."

She did not answer, but glanced with slight inquiry over his outfit. White socks, checked pants, plaid jacket, striped beret sporting a rather overlarge pompom… Frivolous, garish. Obviously he noticed her disapproval. "This is a traditional outfit of golfers in the early twentieth century," he explained defensively.

"I trust their skill in the game was not as deficient as their taste in attire," she commented smoothly.

"I hope you aren't implying that _I _–" Her direct stare was enough to confirm his suspicions. He frowned, feeling the jab of wounded pride. "For your information, I believe this costume conveys a sense of artistic flair. It helps me get into the spirit of the game."

"I was not aware that 'getting into the spirit' required such…_colorful_ means."

Now she was pushing his tolerance too far. He started to retort, but broke off as he detected a slight twitch at the corners of her mouth. She was making fun of him, deliberately. "How did you acquire such a cutting sense of humor?" he grumbled as he turned away to drop his putter into the golf bag standing beside him.

"I believe I acquired it from you," Seven answered smoothly. "After all, you have been encouraging me to cultivate a sense of humor."

"A sense of humor, yes. But I never expected you to branch out into the field of rapier wit."

She merely lifted an eyebrow.

"So, I assume there is a logical reason why you interrupted at such an opportune moment. Or is this merely a social call?"

"I'm sorry if I interrupted your holodeck time. But we did have a dinner engagement, I believe."

The Doctor looked slightly flustered. "We did, didn't we?" He gave the golf ball a pained glance. "I suppose I can test my record another time. Computer, end program." The lush golf course faded into the dismal gray and yellow hologrid, and the Doctor's costume was replaced by his less "colorful" uniform. He smiled at Seven, who seemed slightly relieved, and gestured towards the exit. "Shall we?"

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"Now, let's see how this tastes." Tom Paris stared down at the sorry excuse for a piece of lasagna spread on the plate in front of him. It smelled enough like the real thing, but it looked more like the inside of a Ktarian digestive chamber. Something told him this wasn't going to be good. Tentatively he scooped up a helping on the fork and put it into his mouth. "Ugh, can't even get plain lasagna right!"

"What do you expect from a replicator?" Across the table from him, B'Elanna Torres took a sip of her coffee. "You shouldn't have wasted your rations."

"It was either that or Neelix's steamed leola root soufflé. I'd rather stomach this lasagna." He took another bite and forced a swallow.

"Enjoying yourself?" She surveyed his disgusted expression with obvious amusement.

Tom rewarded her with a warning glare, then something caught his attention. "Well, what do you know?" he said quietly.

B'Elanna followed his line of vision to the mess hall doors, where Seven and the Doctor had just entered together. "What?"

"This is the third time this week they've eaten lunch together," Tom explained, grinning as he watched them.

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "They don't exactly eat 'together', Tom. Seven eats those disgusting nutritional supplements while the Doctor sits there and talks about himself." She smirked. "I don't know how she can stand it."

Tom glanced at her, not sure whether she meant the supplements or the Doctor's talk, but he suspected she meant the latter. He laughed. "The Doc's obviously carrying a torch for her…"

"I don't see why," B'Elanna muttered, watching Seven as she ordered her daily nutritional supplement at the replicator and carried it over to where the Doctor had sat down. "She's got no personality, and as far as I'm concerned she's just a walking Borg database packaged up in an impossibly perfect body."

"A wolf in sheep's clothing, huh?" He grinned at B'Elanna's glare. "Come on, B'Elanna, you've got to admit she's made some progress."

"She might say 'please' and 'thank you' once in a while but she's got a long way to go before she'll stop getting on my nerves." B'Elanna placed her coffee cup down with a sharp clink. "Sometimes I wonder if she really intends on becoming part of this crew."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not the only one who questions her actions. And how many times has she put this ship into danger? If you ask me the captain trusts her a little too much."

"Don't drag the captain into this, B'Elanna. She's probably the only one who sticks by Seven, who really believes in her."

"Well she can have her then. I for one am not going to stand by and let that blond statue…" She faded off as Tom began throwing frenzied glances towards the other side of the room, gesturing wildly with his eyes. "Tom, what…?" She realized too late that Seven was headed straight for their table, in even, measured paces, a hard expression on her face.

"Lieutenant," Seven greeted B'Elanna coolly, seemingly ignoring Tom. "I suggest that if you harbor complaints about my character you express them directly to me instead of talking about me when you assume I cannot hear."

B'Elanna's eyebrows flew up and she looked uncharacteristically guilty, and surprised. "How could you know what I was talking about? I was barely whispering."

"Whispering," Seven repeated incredulously, but let it pass. "Perhaps you have forgotten that I posses superior auditory abilities. I suggest you do not attempt to discuss me behind my back anymore."

Tom took in the proceedings with visible amusement. He was trying his best not to laugh, but when Seven turned to him, any and all mirth disappeared from his expression.

"Lieutenant Paris, you too took part in this conversation. I am holding you at fault also, although you did attempt to…defend me." She hesitated, again facing B'Elanna. "I was beginning to doubt my initial impressions of you but now I can see that I was correct."

"And just what was your initial impression of me?" B'Elanna challenged, leaning back in her chair to look the tall woman directly in the eye.

Seven clasped her hands behind her back in a characteristic stance. "You are unpredictable, easily angered and aroused, and have a violent disposition. Your volatile temper makes you hard to get along with professionally and socially."

She wasn't being intentionally insulting, just completely honest, but nevertheless the truth of her words stung. B'Elanna could feel her Klingon anger rising in full force. "Unpredictable? Violent?" she snapped, eyes flashing. "You have no room to talk. Let me tell you something, Seven, I was beginning to doubt my 'initial impression' of you, too. But you really are just as arrogant, cold, conceited—"

"B'Elanna…" Tom rounded the table and tried to pull her out of her chair. "Let's go."

"No, Tom, this time I've really had it!" She turned back to Seven. "You wanted me to talk about you right to your face, then all right, you got it. You may think you're deceiving us with your 'efficiency' and your expertise but you can't fool me that easily. You were Borg and that's all you'll ever be!"

"B'Elanna!" Tom shouted, grabbing her arm. "That's enough!"

She shot him a furious glare, but bit her tongue, arms crossed stubbornly over her chest.

Tom looked from one to the other, not knowing who to side with. Seven looked more surprised by B'Elanna's outburst than anything, and B'Elanna was practically seething with rage. He had never known she disliked the ex-Borg that much. If he sided with Seven, B'Elanna would probably never speak to him again, but on the other hand Seven could be a formidable enemy, especially because of how close she was with the captain. He was still pondering the dilemma when the Doctor stepped up to them.

"Well, I see Seven's little speech didn't exactly help the situation."

"Help?" B'Elanna snorted. "She started it! Why—"

"B'Elanna!" Tom took her arm again, earning him a dangerous look, but he didn't care. This had to stop. "Come on." He pulled her away from Seven, towards the mess hall exit, giving Seven an apologetic glance before they disappeared through the doors.

The Doctor studied Seven's carefully guarded expression and felt a twinge of sincere holographic sympathy.

"Your advice was flawed," Seven said calmly, turned her head to look at him.

"I was trying to help you. Confronting an issue like gossip will familiarize you with dealing with personal problems."

"I have gained no experience," she countered coolly. "Instead I have made a permanent enemy of Lieutenant Torres. It will greatly hinder our already sensitive professional relationship."

"I'm sorry, Seven," the Doctor apologized earnestly. "I was only trying to help."

"No doubt. But I fail to see how this situation can be rectified." She was truly at a loss, despite her collected exterior. A poor professional relationship would hinder their efforts when they had to work together in Engineering. It would make them less efficient.

The Doctor smiled. "Why don't you go tell her you're sorry?"

"Sorry?" Seven lifted an incredulous eyebrow. "Given Lieutenant Torres's incensed emotional state I doubt such an action would be advisable at this time."

"Just give her time to cool off," he advised quietly. "I'm sure she'll come around soon enough."

Seven gave a slight nod, and started back for their lunch table. The Doctor followed with a soft sigh. She still had so much to learn about human interaction.

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"B'Elanna, what got into you in there?" Tom asked in disbelief as soon as the mess hall doors closed after them.

She stopped and leaned back against the wall, avoiding his inquisitive eyes. "I don't know," she muttered, still angry. "It's just…I don't know!"

"I know you and Seven don't get along but I've never heard you blow up on her like that."

"Well now you have!" B'Elanna snapped, pushing herself away from the wall and stalking off down the hall, leaving Tom to stare after her in complete confusion.

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	2. Chapter Two

RATING: PG-13

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is set sometime in the late fifth season. Sorry, no action yet! I have big plans for this story, and it needs a lot of intro/character focus in the beginning. The real story begins next chapter, I promise!!

DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns all thing Trek, including Voyager, etc.

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Naomi Wildman lay on her stomach, chin resting on her fists and feet swinging in the air, and stared hard at the Qadis-kat board in front of her. On the other side of the board, Neelix watched her with undisguised amusement.

"Your move."

Unexpectedly, Naomi heaved a deep sigh and pulled herself into a sitting position. "I'm tired of playing."

Neelix's spotted face broke into a teasing grin. "What's the matter, you don't like to lose?"

"It's not that, Neelix. I'm just tired of this. We've played five games already today." She started pulling the pieces off the board.

Neelix's gaze turned troubled. "Are you okay? You seem a little…sad, or something."

"I'm bored."

"Bored?" Neelix smiled again as they stood up and stretched. "Well, we could go to the holodeck. I know a wonderful new Trevis and Flotter holonovel that…"

"We did that earlier," Naomi interrupted, shaking her head. "We've done everything."

Neelix regarded her thoughtfully. She was right. They had done just about everything she was interested in: Qadis-kat, Trevis and Flotter, even baked a chocolate cake. There wasn't too much a child could do aboard the ship…and it had been rather boring lately. Nothing eventful had happened in months. He had noticed signs of restlessness in most of the crew, even in Captain Janeway herself, though she tried hard not to show it, for their sake. It was this region of space. He had lost track of the days since they had even encountered an alien ship. None of the star systems they passed were inhabited…the most exciting thing that happened was the nebula they came across a few days ago. A shuttle had been sent out to survey it and collect samples, then they had moved on. Now they were moving again, leaving parsec after parsec of uninhabited space behind them. And if they couldn't resupply soon… he shook his head sadly.

"Neelix?"

"Oh! Yes?" He snapped out of his reverie.

"Could we go to the holodeck and play captain?" A mischievous grin spread across her young face.

"Of course, of course! A very good idea, indeed! Come on, let's see if the holodecks are open…" He led her out of his quarters towards the turbolift.

Naomi loved to run simulations of _Voyager _and play the captain. She hadn't done it for a few days, so Neelix hoped it would ward off the girl's boredom for at least a few more hours.

-------------------

The turbolift deposited Captain Janeway onto the bridge. "Good morning, everyone," she called as cheerfully as she could. Everyone visibly started at the greeting and turned to look at her. She just smiled. "Report."

As usual, Chakotay was already out of his seat to meet her at the railing. "All systems check, heading on course at warp six."

She nodded. "Thank you. You have the bridge." With that, she disappeared into her ready room.

The moment the doors slid closed behind her, Kathryn's shoulders slumped. She let out a long, deep sigh and ordered black coffee from the replicator in a harsher tone than normal. This stress was getting to be too much.

She let the aroma and flavor of the hot coffee soothe her tense nerves as she drank down her first cup of the day. Glancing over a few tardy systems reports on her desk, she wondered if she should chew out these departments for the late reports. Everyone had been on edge lately, and she was no exception. But she would mention it, nevertheless. A little downtime was no excuse for relaxing deadlines.

Her door chimed. "Come," she called absently, taking another sip of her coffee.

When Chakotay stepped into the ready room, she looked up expectantly. "Yes?"

"Something else for you to look at," he said, holding up a PADD.

Frowning, she took it and began scrolling through it, complaining, "This is getting out of hand. I had three reports come in late this morning. A little downtime and this ship…" Her eyes met his, eyebrows raised in surprise. "A party?"

Chakotay sat down across from her and grinned. "Neelix says we need a little excitement since everyone seems a little…bored, lately."

"You can say that again," Kathryn muttered, and waved off his curious look. The last she thing she wanted was a lecture on keeping up spirits. "Well, I think it's a wonderful idea." She entered her authorization, handed the PADD across the desk to him, and sat back, cradling her coffee cup in her hands. He just stood there, looking at her with thoughtful consideration, and she asked with underlying irritation, "Anything else? Or do you just enjoy staring at me?"

Chakotay grinned, choosing to let the second question pass. "Actually…I'm wondering whether I should ask you to come to the party."

"Naturally I'll be there," Kathryn replied quickly, taking a sip of her coffee.

"No, I meant—" He hesitated, noticing how she was carefully avoiding his gaze, choosing instead to peruse a nearby PADD. She knew exactly what he meant. Damn the woman, she was making this unnecessarily difficult. "Would you mind an escort?"

"Who do have in mind?" she asked calmly, picking up the PADD and scrolling through it.

Chakotay let out a sigh of frustration and placed his palms on her desk, leaning closer to her. He was not in the mood for games, but two could play at this one. "Guess."

She the PADD on the desk and leaned back in her chair, regarding some spot on the wall past his head with painstaking consideration. "Tom will naturally 'escort' B'Elanna, Harry…probably with Megan Delaney. Tuvok…" She grinned. "Oh, Chakotay, how thoughtful. A nice stoic Vulcan who won't try anything…"

"Dammit, Kathryn," he almost growled, "I'm asking you to go with me!" He had enough of this.

Her smile turned positively wicked. "Oh, naturally. I don't know what's the matter with me. Not enough coffee this morning, I guess." With that, she threw a casual, "Coffee, black," to the replicator across the room.

Chakotay obligingly straightened up and got the cup for her.

"Oh, thank you," she murmured.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Will you go with me?" He hoped he didn't sound as completely aggravated as he felt. Maybe this wasn't worth the effort…

"Oh." She looked genuinely surprised. "Why, yes, I suppose so." Her eyes sparkled when they met his through the steam of her coffee as she sipped it.

He grinned, nodding, and turned to leave. The ready room doors swooshed closed behind him, and he felt like collapsing against the bulkhead. Kathryn could drain all the energy out of him faster than a dampening field around the warp core.

"Commander, is anything wrong?"

Chakotay looked at Tuvok and just shook his head as he proceeded to his chair. He caught Tom's eye as the pilot turned back to the conn. "You have something to say, Paris?"

"No, no, sir." Tom was grinning with all his might at the console in front of him. _She must have given him a hell of a time about the party…_

-------------------

As the doors closed after Chakotay, Kathryn sank back in her chair with a soft sigh. She had surprised herself a few minutes ago. What had possessed her to act like such an outrageous flirt? She never teased him so much. Maybe the fact that she had gotten three hours of sleep last night had something to do with it. She wasn't feeling quite like herself this morning...but more coffee should remedy that.

She turned back to Tuvok's security report after replicating yet another cup of black coffee.

-------------------

The Doctor sat down in the chair and leaned back, placing his feet up on his desk. He turned slightly and punched in a code on the wall terminal behind him. As the soothing strains of a classical nocturne filled sickbay, he relaxed with a sigh of relief.

He had spent the day toiling away in sickbay, doing exactly nothing. Tidying up when there was nothing to tidy, reorganizing trays of equipment already in perfect order from days of nonuse. His only patient had been Lieutenant Paris at 0300 hours, complaining of a fractured rib. Obviously the lack of excitement in the past weeks encouraged finding other means of…excitement.

Maybe he should deactivate himself. He couldn't remember the last time he had done that. Then he wouldn't have to sit around like this, bored to the core of his holomatrix.

The Doctor was just about to address the computer when the sickbay doors opened and Seven walked straight into his office.

"Computer, pause music. Ah, Seven, what can I do for you? I believe your next maintenance exam is scheduled for next week."

"I wish to see you about a personal matter, Doctor." She looked uncomfortable.

The Doctor stood up and rounded the desk to stand beside her. "Yes?"

"I. . .I have been evaluating my status, and I believe my. . .individuality has become a point of grievance among the crew."

"Does this have anything to do with what happened in the mess hall yesterday?"

Seven tilted her head ever so slightly. "Despite what Captain Janeway has led me to believe, I have realized there is such a thing as too much individuality."

"I'm not sure what you mean."

She let out a soft sigh and squared her shoulders, looking him directly in the eye. "I am referring to my appearance and my demeanor."

The Doctor smiled. "You deemed them 'irrelevant' long ago. Borg perfection lost its charm?"

"No. I merely wish to more adequately integrate myself with Voyager's crew. I believe a more. . .standard uniform, and perhaps more intensive social lessons would expedite that end."

"A uniform?" The Doctor took in her burgundy form-fitting catsuit with a surprised glance. "Are you sure your body has adapted -- "

"I'm sure I will be fine," she interrupted, then shifted her stance rather awkwardly. "I thought you were the appropriate person to approach in this manner. You have expressed an unconditional desire to assist me in my exploration of humanity."

_And so has Captain Janeway_. Far back in his holographic mind the Doctor felt a prick of… _regret? _Yes, that was it. As much as he hated to admit it, giving Seven a Starfleet issue uniform wasn't exactly at the top of his 'to do' list. In fact, he rather enjoyed her usual suit, the way the light played off the generous curves of her figure…aesthetically pleasing, in her own terms. _Stop it_. He came out of his reverie with a shake of his head.

"Doctor?"

"Ah, yes, you. . . a uniform?" he asked, a little over-brightly. "I suppose that can be arranged. As for the social lessons, why don't we schedule them daily instead of weekly?"

She lifted an eyebrow. "I suppose I did specify 'more intensive.'"

"If you would prefer -- "

"No, Doctor," she amended hastily, then added, "Daily lessons will. . .suffice."

The Doctor smiled in satisfaction and leaned back against his desk. When Seven just stood there, his expression turned inquisitive.

"There is another matter," she explained slowly.

The Doctor just stood and waited. She seemed unusually uncomfortable today, visibly awkward as she broached topics of conversation. He decided not to mention it. It wasn't abnormal, just odd for Seven. But she had stopped, averting her eyes and fidgeting uneasily. "Yes?" he probed gently.

Sevens hands curled into fists and she forced herself to look him squarely in the eyes. _Apprehension is irrelevant_, she told herself firmly. "I wish to ask you to accompany me to the party Mr. Neelix is organizing for the crew."

The Doctor blinked in complete surprise. The last thing he had expected was an invitation to a party. But he was pleased that she had taken the initiative, and of course that she had chosen him as an escort.

Seven took his hesitation as sign of dismissal. "I -- forgive me, Doctor. It was foolish of me to ask. . ."

"No, Seven!" He caught her arm she turned to leave. "I would love to go with you."

"You would?"

"Yes. In fact, I was going to ask you, but I'm glad came to me. You've made extraordinary progress in your social skills." He paused. "I noticed you seemed. . .nervous."

"Apprehension is irrelevant," she informed him matter-of-factly.

"Maybe. But it is a human emotion, and I must say you handled it remarkably." He grinned at her proudly.

She eyed him for a moment, deciding if he was patronizing her or merely being kind. She decided on the latter, and let a small smile slide across her lips as she relaxed, gently pulling her arm from his grasp.

"Thank you, Doctor. I will return to my duties."

The Doctor watched her go, then sat back behind his desk with a contented sigh. So that was why she seemed tense lately. "Computer, resume." He leaned back in his chair and picked up a PADD, humming lightly along with the music. He was in high spirits.

-------------------

0900 hours found Kathryn closeted in her quarters yet again, surrounded by PADDs from every department. She tossed aside report after report, unable to concentrate on any of them. Finally she got up and started pacing restlessly, cup of coffee in hand. She swore it was the only thing that kept her going at times like these.

Another day gone by, uneventful. She had discussed the state of their supplies with Neelix that afternoon, and decided she would have to expand replicator rations sometime soon. The food reserves were fast approaching critical depletion, too fast. If it got much worse they would have to alter course to restock somewhere. But where? Sensors showed no inhabited planets for another six light-years, at least.

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. The first pangs of a headache had come, and it looked like yet another sleepless night had arrived. The Doctor would be on her case soon, to cut down on the coffee, to go to bed earlier, to eat more. . . damnit, she had too much to worry about. If he started one of his lectures she might just have to delete his vocal subroutines. . . _Ah, Kathryn, get a hold of yourself._

She had turned down Chakotay's offer of dinner yet again, with the excuse that she had work to do. He had given her one of his disapproving frowns, and offered to help. "A working dinner," he offered. And again she told him no. That made him suspicious, but she didn't care. She didn't want to talk to him about everything that was worrying her, and she knew if she was alone with him the words would come tumbling out. She would probably break down in front of him, and that was out of the question.

Kathryn blinked back the stinging of tears behind her eyes and pressed the back of her hand against her forehead, dropping back onto the sofa. _All right, its time get to work. This crew needs you in one piece. _And with that, a small semblance of control returned to her. She sighed deeply and got back to work.


	3. Chapter Three

RATING: PG-13

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is set sometime during the late fifth season. Sorry if it strays from canon. . .artistic license. wink The action starts here!

DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns all things Trek, including Voyager, etc. sigh

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"Mr. Paris, did you finish running those tests?"

"Yeah, and you were right. Some of those gasses we found don't match any in the ship's database. We've never seen them before."

"Hmm." The Doctor glanced over the PADD Tom handed him. "Each molecule contains twice as many electrons as it should be able to hold. Fascinating."

"I wonder if that had anything to do with the high radiation levels the nebula was giving off."

"I don't know. It's possible. Well, put the information in your report and continue testing. I want to know more about these gasses." He grinned. "We may have taken biochemistry to a whole new level!"

Tom just shook his head and turned back to scanner table, preparing to run some more comprehensive scans of the gas samples. "Oh, Doc. . ."

"Yes?"

"How is Seven doing?"

"Fine, of course. When are Borg anything less than perfect?" Smiling at his own quip, the Doctor continued perusing the results of the last scan.

"I noticed you ate together again today."

"So?" The Doctor was doing his best to sound nonchalant.

"Well, that makes four times this week so far."

"I fail to see your point."

"Oh, come on, Doc! You two have been spending more and more time together, you can't deny there's something going on between you."

"I can, and I am. We are good friends, nothing more."

"Yeah, but how good?" Tom muttered, reconfiguring the scanner to further analyze the gasses.

"I heard that, Mr. Paris. As far as I'm concerned, you've been listening to idle gossip. Or spreading it." The Doctor eyed him suspiciously.

"What makes you think that?" Tom asked innocently. "A man can draw him own conclusions, can't he? I see how you stare at her when you think she's not paying attention. I can't say I blame you. If B'Elanna and I -- "

"Mr. Paris, I would advise you stop right now before you say something that could be held against you."

"Okay, okay, I get the hint. You don't want to talk about it. That's fine with me. If you want to keep your relationship a secret. . ."

"There is no 'relationship!'" the Doctor insisted. "If you want, ask Seven, she'll tell you."

"Oh, so maybe it's a one-sided relationship," Tom surmised slowly, the scanner casting a blue light over his face as he peered through the eyepiece.

"I refuse to continue this pointless conversation."

"Ah, talking like Seven now, are we?"

The Doctor merely huffed and moved across the science lab, his back towards Tom. Annoyance radiated from every photon in his body. Of course they didn't have a "relationship"! The thought was ludicrous! But he couldn't help but feel a small prick of guilt. He did have feelings for Seven that ran deeper then friendship. He could deny that to anyone but himself. Unfortunately, people were starting to notice. Well, he would just have to be more careful. For now he was content with the way things were, he could only hope it would stay that way.

------------------------

"Bridge to Captain Janeway."

Kathryn had just drifted off to sleep when Chakotay's voice broke into her consciousness. It took a long moment for the summons to register.

"Captain?"

She rolled over with a groan, reached out to her bedside table, and slapped the offending object. Every limb felt like a dead weight, and she dreaded any bad news that might be coming.

"Janeway here," she answered sharply.

"We've detected a small fleet of alien ships on an intercept course."

"Time to intercept?"

"About ten minutes."

She recognized the foreboding in her first officer's voice and took a deep breath as she pulled herself out of bed. "On my way."

------------------------

"Report," Captain Janeway ordered as the turbolift let her out on the bridge a few minutes later. The viewscreen displayed a triangular formation of alien vessels heading straight for them.

"The fleet will intercept us in exactly thirty-seven seconds, Captain," Commander Tuvok reported from his station at Tactical.

Kathryn dropped into her seat beside Chakotay and threw him an irritated glance. "Any idea what they're after?"

"Our sensors can't penetrate their shields." Chakotay looked at her curiously, noticing her unusually stressed demeanor, but Harry's voice prevented him from questioning her.

"They're charging weapons, Captain!"

"Try hailing them."

A few tense seconds passed, then Harry shook his head. "No response."

Kathryn stood up and assumed her command stance. "This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager. We aren't looking for a fight. Please stand down."

"They're not responding," Harry called a moment later.

Kathryn looked back at Tuvok. "Can you penetrate their shields and disable their weapons?"

"Standby." Tuvok worked over his sensor readings and after a brief pause, spoke evenly, "Captain, their technology is highly advanced. Our sensors and weapons cannot penetrate their shields."

Suddenly, the bridge rocked as the lead ship darted past them and unleashed a powerful charge at their forward weapons array.

"Weapons are offline, shields at 67 percent," Tuvok called.

"Evasive maneuvers, Mr. Paris," Kathryn ordered the lieutenant at the helm. She tumbled into her seat as a second weapons charge struck Voyager.

"Shields at 50 percent!" Harry shouted.

Kathryn looked at Chakotay, then at Tom. "Get us out of here, maximum warp!"

"Aye, Captain." Tom turned back to the helm and entered the necessary commands. A second later, the ship shuddered slightly as the warp drive shifted into full gear.

"The alien ships are not pursuing," Harry told them with obvious relief.

Janeway relaxed in her chair and took a deep breath. "I wonder what that was about."

"Captain, their weapons appear to be nothing more than EM charges of some sort."

She looked back at Tuvok incredulously. "EM charges?"

"Yes. The voltage was high enough to disrupt and penetrate our shields." Tuvok quirked a pointed eyebrow as he looked from the computer display to her.

"Thank you, Tuvok. Damage report?"

"Hull microfractures on decks five, nine, and eleven," Harry filled in from his post. "Casualty reports coming in. . . twenty six injured, no deaths."

Kathryn breathed a sigh of relief, and caught Chakotay's understanding look. She nodded and stood up. "I'll be in my ready room. Chakotay."

He followed her off the bridge, and when the ready room doors swished closed behind them, she turned to him.

"What do you think?"

"To be honest, I don't know."

"This is one time I don't want honesty." She sighed heavily. "I want answers. Why fire and cause damage, then turn and run? It doesn't make sense."

"The way Tuvok explained it, it sounds like their weapons were nothing more than standard phasers. I don't understand how they could cause so much damage."

"I don't know, Chakotay," she sighed, rubbing her aching forehead wearily. "Their technology is so advanced. . .our ship is no match for them."

"We did alright this time," he told her, sensing her anxiety.

"They didn't want to destroy us -- they could have if they wanted to. The question is, why didn't they?" She looked up at him, searching for answers.

Chakotay thought for a minute. "Maybe they were warning us not to get involved in something."

"What?"

He smiled. "You're really out of answers today, aren't you?"

Instead of smiling back, as he expected, she jumped up and crossed her arms, turning away. "If you don't want to talk, then you're dismissed."

His surprise rendered him speechless for a moment. When he didn't respond directly, Kathryn turned on him. "Well?" Her dark blue eyes narrowed.

"Kathryn, is something wrong?"

"Of course not." Again, she turned away.

He stood up and followed her across the room, catching up to her before she could sit down at her desk. He took her arms and pulled her around to face him. "I know you, and I know when something's bothering you. If you need to talk, I'm here to listen."

She didn't meet his gaze. "I. . .I'm just tired."

Chakotay stared at her, trying to decide if he believed her or not. But then she wasn't looking at him. "Kathryn. . ." He lifted her chin until she finally looked at him, and he smiled slightly. "To put it bluntly, you look like hell. And you never were a good liar."

This time she had to smile, but barely. "You're just too suspicious."

"You've been really tense lately -- are you sure nothing is bothering you?"

She hesitated, then sighed deeply. "It's just, um, I'm restless. . .tired. . .I don't know. I don't feel in control anymore."

"Control of what?"

"Me, myself. I can't pay attention, I can't focus. I haven't finished reading any reports in three days."

He laughed. "Now I know something's wrong."

She smiled, a full smile this time.

Chakotay looked down at her and felt his heart contract as she smiled up at him. He still held her, close to him, and suddenly it seemed very close. She noticed it a second later, and instantly stepped back. An awkward silence followed.

"Well, uh, I'm here if you need to talk." He spoke after what seemed like an eternity. She looked up, surprised, and then nodded. "Of course. Thank you."

After he left, Kathryn let out a breath she had been holding for too long. These kinds of things were happening more and more often lately -- the last thing she needed right now.

------------------------

Seven of Nine slowly opened her eyes and found herself lying face-down on the cargo bay floor. The world spun around her as she tried to lift her head and look around, and she found she could hardly draw breath. Every limb tingled and felt like they were filled with latinum. A wave of pain swept through her, and she was vaguely aware of seeing strange light crackling along the implants in her hand. As it got harder to breathe, darkness closed around her and finally she passed out.

------------------------


	4. Chapter Four

RATING: PG-13

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Takes place during the late fifth season. Sorry if it strays from canon. . .artistic license. wink The mystery deepens. . .

DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns all things Trek, including Voyager, etc. sigh

------------------------

_Captain's Log, Supplemental_

_Five hours have passed since our encounter with the alien fleet, and we are still no closer to finding out why they attacked us and then disappeared. I'm hoping our sensor readings and records will turn up some answers. _

"Harry, anything?" Janeway asked as she entered the astrometrics lab.

"I've gone over the sensor logs from the attack and I still can't find any indication of who the aliens were."

Kathryn looked up at the tactical display and studied it carefully. The alien vessels resembled Cardassian warships in their bulk, but they had sleeker lines and a smaller wingspan. And their technology was far more advanced.

"Can you analyze their weapons signature, find out exactly how their weapons work?"

"As far as I can tell, they're EM charges, just like Tuvok says. Very narrow beams, high voltage, they sliced through our shields like they weren't even there. And it sent a discharge through all our systems. Fortunately they were able to compensate."

Kathryn shook her head. "There has to be more to this. And then there's the question of, why?"

Harry turned back to his console and began entering commands. The display of the alien fleet rotated from top view to profile, and focused in on their weapons banks. "Our sensors couldn't penetrate their shields, but we got an outer view of their weapons system. It's no more complex than a Nova class starship."

"It's what's beneath the surface that matters. If we could only find out their shield frequency, we could realign our sensors to match. Keep working on it, see what you can come up with."

"Yes, ma'am." Harry nodded and went back to work.

Just after she left astrometrics, Kathryn's commbadge chirped. "Doctor to the captain."

"Janeway here, Doctor, what is it?"

"Captain, Seven of Nine was found unconscious in cargo bay two. We're bringing her sickbay now."

"I'm on my way." She headed for the turbolift and arrived in sickbay a few minutes later.

Seven lay on motionless on a biobed underneath the scanning arch, her face ghostly pale and her lips tinged a light blue. The Doctor hovered around her, administering a hypospray and looking very concerned.

"Doctor, how is she?"

"Not very well, I'm afraid. I can't revive her."

"What happened?"

"As far as I can tell, it's a simple case of electrocution. In anyone else I could easily repair the damage. But with a Borg, or half-Borg, as the case may be, since their bodies are riddled with implants, it becomes much more serious."

"How did it happen?" Kathryn glanced from Seven's still face to the Doctor's grim expression.

"Apparently she was regenerating when the alien fleet attacked. Their weapons sent a discharge through the ship's systems, and since she was, in a sense, 'plugged in' to her alcove, her body served as a sort of lightning rod. The discharge traveled from the alcove into her primary cortical node, all the metal inside her easily carrying the shock throughout her body, and, for lack of a better phrase, 'short-circuited' her implants. They have stopped sending signals to her brain."

"Is there anything you can do?"

"Her Borg nanoprobes should begin repairing some of the damage, reconnecting her implants to the rest of her body, but until then she will be brain-dead. There is no synaptic activity. I've managed to stabilize her, but there's no telling how long it will be before she can function on her own."

Kathryn sighed. "Keep me informed." She left sickbay with a final glance at Seven's unmoving body. _Just add a half-dead Borg the list of crises today. . . _She shook herself for such a cruel thought. It wasn't Seven's fault, or anyone else's for that matter. It was just another hitch in the course of a very hectic and tiresome day.

------------------------

Tom rounded the last corner before B'Elanna's quarters and stopped in front of her door. He made sure the large bouquet of flowers he held still smelled as fragrant as when he had taken them from the aeroponics bay a few minutes ago. No replicated flowers this time. He wanted his peace offering to be as mollifying as possible.

With a deep breath, he pressed a button on the keypad, and waited. No answer. He tried again. Still no answer. He frowned, thinking she was probably working overtime again in Engineering. B'Elanna tended to hide behind her work when she didn't want to deal with something. And judging by their last encounter, he thought ruefully, she definitely didn't want to deal with him right now. But he had taken the initiative, determined to patch up this latest schism in their bumpy relationship.

"Computer, where is Lieutenant Torres?"

"_Lieutenant Torres is in her quarters_."

Tom frowned again. So she was ignoring him. Well, he wouldn't take no for an answer, at least not this time. He hit another button, and the doors slid open.

"B'Elanna?" he called, quietly, stepping inside. Her quarters were dark, and characteristically a little untidy. A shirt was thrown over the back of a chair, remnants of a replicated dinner sat on the table, and her boots had obviously been kicked off in some haste, laying scattered in the middle of the room. He shook his head and took another step inside.

Then he saw her, stretched out on the couch in her uniform tank top. The jacket and turtleneck were strewn over a nearby chair. One arm thrown back over her head, the other hanging loosely off the couch, fingers brushing the floor, she looked strangely vulnerable as she slept. He felt a rush of something akin to paternal protectiveness, and for a long minute just watched her sleeping. It was so quiet he could hear the sound of her deep, steady breathing. He wondered how long she had been asleep.

"B'Elanna?" he whispered, bending over her. He laid a hand on her shoulder.

In one lightning fast motion, she bolted upright and threw a smashing blow towards his face. It clipped his jaw, sending him staggering backwards. The flowers went flying through the air, scattering over the floor, and Tom fell hard onto his backside, holding his throbbing jaw.

B'Elanna sat rigidly on the edge of the couch, every muscle tense, hair wildly disheveled, and her eyes blazed. Her chest heaved in deep gasps. "What the hell are you doing here?" she half-shouted, half-snarled.

Tom stared at her in shock, his mouth fallen slightly open. Then he regained his senses, and the defensive humor mechanism clicked soundly into place. "Nothing. I just dropped by to get socked in the jaw."

She glared at him. "Don't, ever, do that again," she growled, fighting to control her breathlessness.

Tom scrambled to his feet. "I'm sorry," he said honestly. "I didn't mean to scare you like that." He looked over at the flowers spread over the floor. "Those were meant for you, but I guess they look kind of sad now."

"Keep your bloody flowers," she snapped, catapulting off the couch and prowling her quarters. She radiated tenseness, and Tom immediately sensed it.

"Hard day in Engineering?" he asked quietly, crouching down to gather up the flowers.

"You could say that," she answered shortly.

"Why don't you tell me about it?"

"I don't need your sympathy, Tom. I'll manage."

He stood up and walked towards her, flowers in hand. Miraculously, they were still intact, although the bouquet was little more untidy than originally. "Here, these are for you."

"I said, keep your bloody flowers! I don't want them! And I don't want you! Just -- just leave, will you?"

"No!" he almost shouted. "Something's wrong, B'Elanna, and I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on!"

She blinked up at him, surprised at his loud tone, and some of the anger fell away for the moment. Tom felt some relief that he had gotten through to her, but knew that was only a quarter of the job. The bigger part would be getting her to open up.

That she did with amazingly little effort. She began to pace restlessly, hugging herself tightly. Tom sat down on the arm of the chair and just waited, fingering the bouquet lightly, knowing she would start when she felt like it and not before.

Finally she did. "I -- I don't know what's the matter with me, Tom. I've just been in one hell of a bad mood lately."

"That's an understatement," Tom muttered under his breath.

B'Elanna glared at him, guessing what he had said, but went on. "I lose my temper at every little thing." A wry smile twisted her full lips. "I annoy the hell out of myself. I can't imagine what everyone else thinks."

Tom slid off the chair arm and stepped up to her, pulling her into a secure embrace. And she let him. She took a deep breath and let it out very slowly, and with it, some of the stress and irritation flowed out of her. Her tense body relaxed in his arms, and she sighed deeply.

Pulling back a little, she looked into his blue eyes. "Thank you, Tom."

He smiled. "That's what I'm here for, isn't it? To be your punching bag?"

She laughed a little and smartly thumped his shoulder. "I just hope you can stand the beating."

"Don't worry. If you hit too hard I'll get you convicted on assault and battery."

"You wouldn't dare." An ominous edge crept into her tone.

He pressed his forehead against hers and his tone dropped seductively. "Actually, I enjoy it most of the time."

A slow smile spread across her lips, and she slid her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, interlocking them behind his head. "So, are you up for some rough-and-tumble tonight?"

"Hope I can stand the beating," he murmured.

"I'll go easy on you."

"You wouldn't dare. . ." Tom smiled and leaned in to kiss her gently. She instantly responded, deepening it, pressing in closer. But with an act of sheer willpower she drew back as it started getting intense, then stepped away completely, leaving him looking a little disappointed. She grinned and took his hand.

"Come on, let's get some real dinner first. You were right about that replicated lasagna."

Tom glanced over at the table and saw it was indeed lasagna. And it looked no less like a Ktarian digestive chamber than when he had tried it. The sight made him pull a disgusted face. "I'd rather eat Neelix's leola root that that slop. And that's saying something."

------------------------

Harry stared hard at the Kaltoh game in front of him, his mind struggling to run through endless game plays. Across the table, Tuvok watched him with typical coolness, although Harry had no doubt that the Vulcan was craftily planning his own triumph. Another triumph. But Harry wouldn't let him win. There had to be a way out of this one. . .

He finally decided, and tentatively made his move. The game shimmered, and rearranged its shape, but did not settle into the final sphere. He grumbled under his breath and looked up at Tuvok.

Tuvok calmly reached out, with little to no hesitation, and touched the lower left hemisphere. Again the game shimmered.

Harry blinked. It was over. And he had lost. Again.

"How did you do that?" he asked with obvious irritation.

"Very simple, Mr. Kim. It was part of an intricate and logical strategy."

"What is this strategy?"

"I do no believe strategies are meant to be shared, Mr. Kim. They are unique to each individual. In time you will develop your own."

"Yeah, and you'll still be able to anticipate my every move." He sat back and crossed his arms. "How do you do it, Tuvok?"

The Vulcan shifted slightly in his seat. "It requires much disciplined logic, which, I must say, you seem to lack."

"Well, I'm no Vulcan."

"Indeed." Tuvok lifted an eyebrow. "The purpose of this game is to cultivate and exercise one's logic. I have noticed a marked improvement in your implementation since we have undertaken this game."

"Thanks." Harry leaned forward. "So what do you think about that alien fleet?"

Tuvok hesitated before answering. "I believe we cannot draw a definite conclusion until we have more data."

"I know that, Tuvok, but what if we never get more data?" He sighed. "I've been working over what we did get all day and I'm still no closer to finding any answers."

"Then perhaps you have done all that is humanly possible."

"Perhaps. But the captain is expecting a full report by tomorrow morning. What am I going to tell her? 'Sorry, captain, I can't think of a single reason why they attacked us'?"

"She must accept the truth no matter what it holds."

"I guess so. I just feel so. . .so helpless! I wish there was more I could do."

"Mr. Kim. Such a 'wish' is not only pointless but detrimental as well. You have done all that you can do. You should take pride that you have put forth your best."

Harry smiled. "Thanks, Tuvok. So. . .you up to another game?"

"I believe I can spare the time."

And so they began another game of Kaltoh. And Harry lost.

Again.

------------------------


	5. Chapter Five

RATING: PG-13

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Takes place during the late fifth season. Sorry if it strays from canon. . .artistic license. wink The adventure continues. . . There are people out there with a lot more tech understanding than I have, so if there are inconsistencies, in here, sorry! Point it out in a review and I'll try to correct it. (Sorry, I'm still studying up on Trek tech grin)

DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns all things Trek, including Voyager, etc. sigh

------------------------

"Captain! . . . Captain?"

Kathryn turned to see Neelix scurrying up behind her in the corridor. "Yes, Neelix?"

"Captain," Neelix panted, coming up alongside her, "I wanted to speak to you about the food reserves. . ."

Kathryn sighed. "Neelix, I know we're getting low, but we've had shortages before, and I trust your judgment on stretching our supplies. Limit whatever you see fit. Just try to taper off. I don't want to alarm the crew unnecessarily."

"Oh, I understand, I understand. Actually, I wanted to ask you if it would be all right to change the date for our party."

"Tell me you want to move it up."

The Talaxian grinned. "Yes, that's right. I've been noticing the crew is under a lot of stress right now, and I think we should move it to, say, tomorrow night? Would that be convenient?"

"More than convenient. Perfect, in fact." Kathryn glanced over the PADD she held and looked over at Neelix as a thought occurred to her. "Neelix, are you sure can spare the supplies for this party? I don't want to drain the reserves even close emergency levels. We have to make them last as long as we can."

"Well, I don't think the crew will notice if we have one or two less plates of food on the table." He chuckled cheerfully. "Just replicate plenty of synthehol to go around -- they'll never know the difference."

Kathryn laughed for what felt like the first time in days. "I trust your judgment there." She paused in front of the turbolift doors and turned to him. "Your services as morale officer are going to be in high demand these next few days. What with alien attacks, food shortages. . ."

"I know, captain, and don't worry!" he told her with an encouraging smile. "I've handled far worse than this before. We'll get through all this, I'm sure of it."

Kathryn smiled at him, shaking her head slightly. "You never cease to amaze me with your optimism, Neelix."

"That's my job." Neelix grinned.

"Oh, I'm going to sickbay to visit Seven. Want to come?"

"Of course!" Neelix followed her into the turbolift.

"Deck five," Kathryn told the computer, and returned to perusing the Doctor's report in her hand. "Hmm. . ."

"Captain?"

"Oh, I just read something interesting here. You remember that mutara class nebula we surveyed a few days ago?"

"Yes, we collected some samples and moved on. Nothing spectacular."

"Well, it seems Tom and the Doctor found some interesting new gases in those samples we got. We've never encountered them before." Her eyes gleamed with scientific curiosity.

"They're not harmful, I hope."

"I don't think so." The turbolift doors opened, and they walked into the corridor. "At least the Doctor doesn't think so."

"Well that's good. The last thing we need is some dangerous gas floating around the ship, if I do say so." Neelix bounced merrily along beside her. Kathryn just shook her head and grinned as they turned into sickbay. He was far too happy than anyone had a right to be.

"How is she?" Kathryn questioned the Doctor, who came out of his office to meet her.

"No change, I'm afraid. I've been monitoring her constantly, especially her nanoprobe activity. They're working busily, but they just can't keep up. I've been trying everything I know to repair the damage, but so far -- nothing." The Doctor's frowned deepened with concern as he looked over at Seven's body.

Kathryn followed his line of vision and walked over to Seven's biobed. She lay just as still as she was the day before, her lips still an unnatural shade of blue. Glancing down, Kathryn saw her nail beds were tinged the same color. She looked dead, except the slight rise and fall of her chest as the medication kept her breathing. Kathryn sighed and rested her hands on the edge of the biobed. _Seven, I need your help. Please get well, soon. _Seven knew her way around the astrometrics lab even better than Harry, and if anyone could find out why this alien fleet had attacked them, it was her. But for now they had to rely on other means.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Neelix behind her, looking soberly down on Seven's deathly pale face. "She looks. . .dead."

"I know." Kathryn shuddered slightly in spite of herself. "I just hope she can survive until her nanoprobes repair enough of the damage, or the Doctor finds a way to reconnect her implants."

Neelix nodded. "Despite everything, I think the crew is starting to miss her already. She makes quite an impression."

"Quite an impression," Kathryn echoed softly, blinking back a sudden stinging of tears. She cleared her throat. "Well, Doctor, keep me informed."

"Of course," the Doctor nodded. After Janeway and Neelix left, he stopped beside Seven and gazed down on her sadly. Every photon inside him ached to see her big blue-gray eyes open and looked up at him, anything to let him know she would be all right. In all his medical experience, he had never encountered such a difficult case, at least not one with so much emotional involvement. If Seven never woke up, he had no idea what he would do.

Then he realized just how much he felt for her. The thought shook him to his very holographic core. It was ridiculous, a hologram in love with an ex-Borg. Improbable. And he knew she felt exactly nothing for him. That would never change. He hesitantly laid his hand over hers, startled at how cold it felt, and curled his fingers around it. "Come on, Seven," he whispered. "Come back to us. Soon."

------------------------

_First Officer's Personal Log_

_Stardate undefined_

_Two have passed we encountered the alien fleet, and morale on the ship is slowly slipping. Mine right along with it. It's getting harder to get to sleep at night, with so many worries and unanswered questions filling my mind. I tried a vision quest to bring my soul some peace, but even that has failed. Something has to happen soon, before morale reaches a dangerous low. The last time things got so bad was when we traveled through the Void a few months ago. We got through that, and I'm hoping the crew will pull together and get through this as well. _

Chakotay looked around the bridge, wondering why some didn't just _say something_. The only sound was the quiet beeping of consoles, and it was grating on his nerves. No one had said a word for the last fifteen minutes.

"Paris," he called, a little harsher than he meant to.

Tom almost jumped out of his seat, and swiveled sharply around. "Yes, sir?"

"Why so quiet?"

"I--I don't know."

"I don't like it."

Now Tom looked thoroughly confused. "I -- "

"Why don't you people talk?" Chakotay went on with audible irritation. "I've never heard a bridge shift so quiet!"

"Sometimes it is beneficial to work in silence," Tuvok put in from his station. "I have found the normal 'bridge banter' to hinder my work on many occasions."

"Well the lack of it is hindering my work right now." Chakotay punched in a code on the terminal beside him and glanced up at Tom, who sat looking at him with an expression of utter surprise. "Any new betting pools, Tom?"

Immediately Tom warmed to this new subject. "Well, as a matter of fact -- "

"Betting, on my bridge?"

Everyone turned as Captain Janeway exited the turbolift without taking her eyes off the PADD in her hand. She took the steps to the command level slowly, then stopped and looked up curiously. "Quiet today."

"You can say that again," Chakotay muttered. "How's Seven?"

"No change." Kathryn dropped into her chair with a sigh and leaned over slightly to glance over the report he had up on the terminal. "Personnel report."

"Apparently Crewmen Mitchell and Herren started a fight in engineering this morning. Three other people joined in before B'Elanna pulled out a phaser and threatened to fire on them."

"I'm sure that stopped them."

"It did."

"Any idea what it was about?"

Chakotay shrugged. "Just a disagreement."

"Everyone's on edge these days," Kathryn sighed. "Oh, Neelix moved the party to tomorrow night. That should help morale a little."

"Good. God knows we need it." Chakotay tapped the arm of his chair restlessly. "We're all feeling the strain." He turned to look at her with concern. "Are you feeling any better?"

She nodded. "I slept better last night."

"What, you got ten minutes more?" He smiled.

She shot him an annoyed glare. "No, as a matter of fact I slept a whole five hours."

"Oh, really?" He feigned admiration. "Before you know it you'll be up to eight hours."

"That's enough, Commander," she bristled. She was in no mood for his bad sense of humor today. But when she saw his face fall, she felt a twinge of remorse. "Chakotay, I -- "

"Captain, sensors just picked the same alien fleet, two hundred kilometers off the port bow!" Harry called excitedly. "They're on an intercept course!"

"Red alert, shields up," Kathryn ordered immediately. The bridge darkened as the alert klaxons sounded, and the air immediately filled with tension. Kathryn shot out of her chair and approached the ops station. "Harry, start continuous scans. Maybe we can find out a little more about them this time."

"One hundred kilometers and closing," Tuvok put in calmly. Kathryn turned to look at him. "Tuvok, arm photon torpedoes. I don't want to take any chances."

"Our weapons were useless last time," Chakotay reminded her quietly.

"Damnit, I won't just sit here and wait!" Kathryn snapped, turning on him. "I want to be ready," she added, lowering her voice considerably. She laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. It's just -- "

"I know." He squeezed her arm reassuringly and looked back at Tuvok. "Tuvok, divert all power to shields when the time comes. Take it from the replicators if you have to. Something tells me they won't be satisfied with a few hull scrapes this time."

Kathryn tapped her commbadge. "Janeway to the Doctor. Prepare for casualties. It looks like our friends are back."

"I'll be ready, captain," came the Doctor's reply.

"Captain, the fleet is in visual range," Harry said, fingers moving over his console.

"On screen."

The fleet appeared on the viewscreen, speeding towards them, arranged in the same triangular formation. As Kathryn stared at the screen, she felt a strange sense of foreboding. _Something tells me they won't be satisfied with a few hull scrapes this time. . . _She couldn't agree more.

"Captain, the alien fleet is charging weapons."

"Hail them," Kathryn ordered tensely.

"No response," Harry answered a moment later.

"Try again."

Harry shook his head. "Still nothing."

"Damn. Tuvok, are those torpedoes ready?"

"Yes, captain. Armed and ready."

"Now, let's see who takes the first shot."

Just seconds later, Voyager shuddered as the lead ship unleashed a powerful charge at their starboard side. "I thought so," Kathryn muttered. She settled more firmly into her chair. "Tuvok, target their power core and fire."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow but did as he was ordered. And as expected, "No effect."

More ships opened fire on them, and Kathryn gripped the arms of chair to stay seated. "Report!"

"Shields at 75 percent."

"Fire at will."

A massive explosion sent sparks showering from the wall behind Harry. "Shields down!" he cried, frantically working over data on his console.

"Tuvok!" Kathryn jumped out of her chair and lurched over to Tuvok's station as the bridge rocked underneath her feet. "Reverse hull polarization! That should deflect their charges."

"Captain?"

"Just do it!"

"Captain, that could destabilize the warp field."

"I know, get on it! Tom, go to impulse." She grabbed his console with one hand to keep her footing, and with other slapped her commbadge. "B'Elanna, shut down the warp core!"

"Yes, captain," a very frenzied B'Elanna responded after a brief pause. "Preparing to shut down the core. . ."

"Damn!" Tom slammed his fists against the conn angrily. "That last charge jammed the relays! Navigation is offline, and I can't go to impulse!"

"Captain, the core can't shut down fast enough!" Harry shouted. "The warp field is destabilizing!"

"B'Elanna?" Kathryn called desperately.

"I'm trying, captain! I need a few more minutes!"

"You don't have them! Get that core shut down!"

A string of Klingon curses filtered over the comm, along with sounds of chaos from Engineering. Another console exploded, and Voyager shook violently, sending half the bridge crew to the floor. "Hull breaches, decks two, six, seven, nine!" Harry shouted over the din. "Captain, the warp field is going to collapse any second! It'll tear those breaches apart!"

Chakotay pulled Kathryn to her feet and jerked his head around to look at Tuvok. "Tuvok, reverse the polarization again! We can't survive if that warp field collapses!"

"The alien fleet is retreating!" Tom called, but his report was lost as B'Elanna's voice filled the chaotic bridge.

"Captain, I can't shut down the core!" B'Elanna called furiously over the comm. "Those charges shorted all the consoles! I don't have any control here!"

"Go to manual," Kathryn snapped.

"It'll take too long, the field will collapse before that."

"Tuvok?"

"I am attempting to reverse polarization. . ."

"Captain, the warp field is collapsing!" Harry punched command after command into his console, trying desperately to avert the disaster. "With shields down, we won't survive -- "

Then it happened. The field collapsed completely, hurtling Voyager out of warp. The ship screamed to a stop, explosions riddling the hull and decks. . .and then all was silent. Far too silent.

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	6. Chapter Six

RATING: PG-13

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Takes place during the late fifth season. Sorry if it strays from canon. . .artistic license. wink The adventure continues. . .

DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns all things Trek, including Voyager, etc. sigh

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Silence.

Darkness.

Pain.

Chakotay's mind swam slowly into semi-consciousness, then incredible pain slammed him fully awake. His eyes flew open, and he found himself lying sprawled on the bridge floor, several yards from where he had been standing. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered how he had been thrown so far.

The bridge was completely dark, except for one or two consoles that blinked and flashed weakly. Conduits had ruptures everywhere; he could hear them hissing angrily all around him. He felt rather than saw the haze of steam and coolant clouding the still air, filling his lungs and leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He swallowed and found his throat parched and sore, and he wondered how long it would be before the environmental controls failed. It was a miracle they had lasted this long.

Chakotay tried to sit up, and fell back on one elbow with a groan of pain. Two, maybe three ribs were broken, and he had torn some muscle, he was sure of it. He took a deep breath and very slowly struggled to a sitting position. When the waves of intense pain had subsided enough, he opened his eyes and tried to look for the person closest to him. But it was too dark, he would have to move. That was not a happy prospect--every move sent daggers of fire down his side. He leaned forward, bracing himself on one arm, and reached out with the other towards what appeared to be a dark shape a few feet away. His fingers brushed fabric--a uniform. He slid closer and felt for a face.

It was Tom. He was out cold. Chakotay shook him very gently, calling, "Tom! Tom, can you hear me?" Tom remained motionless. Chakotay squinted into the darkness and thought he could see someone else close by. It turned out to be Lieutenant Ayala.

"Ayala!" Chakotay patted the black man's face and felt warm blood on his fingers. A head wound. Ayala groaned, stirred, and his eyes slowly opened. "Ayala, can you hear me?"

"I. . .I hear you," Ayala whispered, wincing. "God, my head feels like it's gonna explode."

"You're probably hemorrhaging. Lie still, I'll get you help as soon as I can."

Ayala sighed and closed his eyes. Chakotay turned from him, gasping slightly at the pain stabbing at him. He clenched his teeth and crawled a few feet, feeling in front of him, and again he felt a still body. He pulled himself alongside it and bent low to make out the face. "Kathryn," he breathed. He pulled her halfway into his lap and when her head rolled to the side, he could see a nasty gash on her temple, along the hairline. Blood covered the side of her face and neck, and he gasped at the sight. She needed medical attention, fast.

"Chakotay to the Doctor. . . .Chakotay to sickbay. . . .Chakotay to anyone. . . .Damn!" Of course the comm was down. What wasn't? He felt despair and chilling fear begin to pull at him, but he stubbornly pushed those feelings aside. They had gotten through worse. Borg space, for example. Now if they could just get through this. . .

"Kathryn," he called, feeling her throat for a pulse. His heart began to race when he could not feel one, but then he felt it, very faint, very erratic. She was barely alive. "Kathryn," he said, louder, leaning closer to her ear. "Kathryn, if you can hear me, we're going to get out of this. I promise." He gently lifted up her head and placed it on the floor. Without thinking he pulled off his jacket, rolled it up, and slid it behind her neck.

"Commander," a voice rasped from across the bridge. Chakotay looked behind him to see Tuvok standing at his station, leaning on his console for support.

"Tuvok?"

"Yes. Is anyone else alive?"

"Ayala, and Kath--the captain. But they both need medical attention, quickly."

"I am afraid time is not in excess right now. It is safe to assume that environmental controls are failing, rapidly. We have multiple hull breaches, and with primary and secondary power systems nonfunctional, force fields are not in place around those sections."

"Damn. I didn't even think of that. Getting auxiliary power online should be top priority."

"Agreed." Tuvok limped away a few feet and crouched down. A moment later he said quietly, "Ensign Lang is dead."

"Try to find Harry. We need his help if we want to get any power restored before life support runs out."

Tuvok nodded and spent the next few minutes searching the bridge, pushing aside loose bulkheads and protruding pipes, and finally he found Harry, lying on the floor behind the ops station. "Ensign Kim. Mr. Kim, if you can hear me, please respond."

Harry moaned slightly and stirred, his eyes blinking open. He jerked up, wincing and touching his fingers to the back of his head. "Ouch, damnit!" he growled.

Tuvok quirked an eyebrow and sat back on his heels. "It would appear that you survived."

"I guess so," Harry groaned, rubbing his head gingerly. "Barely."

"Nevertheless you are alive. If you are not severely injured, we require your assistance."

"Yeah, sure. Is everything offline?"

"Everything but life support, I would guess," Chakotay put in from where he sat beside Kathryn. "We have to get secondary power online. Any ideas?"

Harry pulled himself carefully to his feet. "All the relays are jammed, consoles are shorted. . .it's going to be one hell of a job."

"We have to get started right away. We don't have much time. There's an uncontained hull breach on deck two, it won't be long before we're floating in a vacuum. We'll have to work from here. If we try leaving, there's no telling what kind of atmosphere we'll meet on the other side of a door."

Harry nodded and lurched over to the nearest power relay. The cover was gone, so he just knelt down and reached in, feeling around in the darkness. "I wish B'Elanna were here, she'd know what to do. And what I wouldn't give for a wristlight right now. I can't work in the dark."

"You'll have to for now," Chakotay answered roughly, shoving himself to his feet and stubbornly ignoring the agony in his side. There were more important things to worry about right now. Like making sure they would survive the night.

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End file.
